Man of Society
by cigarettes-and-coffee
Summary: When a new castaway finds refuge in the Lost camp, can Desmond save both the lives of her and her little brother? Can he even save his own life?
1. Back to the Cave

**Man of the World --- Written by Camacho**

**Chapter I – Back to the Cave**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Adeline. **

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_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_No one ever told us we had time to waste_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_For a little while, for a little while_

_Life on the outside, life on the edge_

_Pushin' all the buttons of love_

_Drivin' in the wedge_

_Somebody's takin' from you time and time and time again_

_Can't believe it's not the way you want it to be_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_No one ever told us we had time to waste_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_For a little while, for a little while_

_Somebody lookin' for you_

_Somewhere you've seen a face_

_Somehow it leaves you feelin' lost and out of place_

_Too many wasted nights_

_And way too many darker days_

_There's nothin' left to make you burn_

_And nothin' left to make you wanna stay_

_I'm lookin' deep inside you, down where you were before_

_And when I find you, I'll be wild and knockin' down your door_

_I'll drag you screamin' from this endless and angry scene_

_You can believe it's just the way you want it to be_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_No one ever told us we had time to waste_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_For a little while, oh, yeah, for a little while_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_For a little while, oh, yeah_

_Oh, let's get back to the cave_

_For a little while_

**Lita Ford – "Back to the Cave"**

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I could feel the hellish rays of the sun stroking my battered back, the deep gash on my right shoulder stopping me from rolling over. It was almost torture to even move because my once lithe body hurt so bad. Even the most brutal of soccer games was nothing compared to the agony my body was feeling as it laid on the beach.

"Jake?" My eyes were wide with fear when I realized my little brother was no longer next to me. I slowly forced myself off the ground, cringing with every move.

"Jake!" The raw sound of my voice came as no surprise, but the cold barrel of a gun as it was pressed against the small of my back did.

"Who are you?" Where was that accent from? It was Middle Eastern, of that I was certain. Iraq, perhaps?

"Please… I'm just looking for my brother." The calming quality of my own voice worked as a relaxant to my adrenaline-filled body.

"Who are you?" he repeated, digging the barrel of the gun deeper into my back. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"My name is Adeline Richards."

"Where are you from?"

"San Pedro, California."

"How did you get here?"

"I was taking my little brother fishing when this huge storm came. Our boat drifted out to the middle of nowhere and then… somebody attacked us." I furrowed my brow in concentration. "A group of older guys…"

I felt the pressure of the gun disappear as the man said, "Follow me."

"Sir, I…"

"_Follow me_," he commanded with more force. Sensing that I had nowhere else to go, I let him lead me through the forest, barely even noticing when the barbs of exotic plants tore at the flesh of my bare legs. Feeling self-conscious about my beach apparel, I crossed my arms on top of my bikini-clad chest, thankful that I decided to throw on a pair of denim shorts over my bottom half.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked my new companion.

"Back to the camp," he said shortly. "Perhaps Sawyer has seen your brother."

"How many people are at this camp?"

"You will see."

I raised my eyebrows in annoyance, deciding not to ask any more questions. He didn't exactly seem like Tour Guide Barbie. He acted more like GI Joe, judging from the handgun he clasped so close to him and the glint of metal coming from the waistband of his pants. _Great, he's got more weapons. That's just super_, I thought to myself.

"This is the camp," he announced, barging through a few bushes.

My eyes took in the sight before me: the young couple gathered around a laughing baby, a heavy set man chatting with a man who looked to be twice his age… and then there was the man on the rock. His appearance entranced me: shaggy brown hair and a scraggly, unkempt beard. He seemed to be the most well-adjusted to island life, judging from his aura of relaxation as he munched on a mango. He intrigued me, to say the least.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"That does not matter. You need to talk with Jack. He will decide what we should do with you."

"What you should do with me? Because I'm the biggest threat you have on this deserted island," I added sarcastically, flailing my arms about wildly.

Grabbing my arms tightly, the Iraqi said through clenched teeth, "I cannot trust you just yet. Jack will know what to do."

"You _can_ trust me!" I noticed the eyes of several people focusing on our conversation. The eyes of the man on the rock were watching us nonchalantly.

"I do not know this for sure!"

"I just got to this island! I am in _pain_ and all I want to do is find my little brother!"

He took a deep breath. "I do not want to hurt you, Adeline. Just cooperate with me."

I glared at the man and followed him down to a dark-haired man, who sat on the shore with a blonde woman. They seemed to know each other well enough, judging by the woman's hand resting casually on the man's forearm.

"Jack."

The man turned around, his dark eyes narrowing in on me. "Who are you?"

"She was on the beach, about half an hour away," the Iraqi answered before I had a chance to even open my mouth.

"What's your name?"

"Is this another interrogation?" I asked with only a hint of a smile.

The new man – Jack – was silent for a moment before his grizzled face broke into a grin. "I'm afraid it is. Have a seat." He became aware of the nasty sight on my back, softly running calloused fingers over the wounds. "We can take care of that."

"It's fine." I paused. "I don't even notice it anymore."

Nodding, he turned to my captor and said, "I can handle this, Sayid. Thanks."

As Sayid's footsteps crept away, my own gaze crept to the man on the rock. He had finished the snack and was now hitting golf balls into the ocean's greedy water. His stance was nearly perfect… shoulders squared… but his feet were a little too far apart.

"So, what's your name?" Jack asked, interrupting my scrutinizing thoughts.

"Adeline Richards."

"Adeline… I'm Jack and this is Juliet."

I waved to the woman next to Jack and stopped myself from making an overused Shakespeare comment.

"Where are you from?"

"San Pedro, California. I was taking my little brother fishing, a storm hit, we got attacked by 40-year-old men, and now I'm here."

Jack laughed. "How old are you?"

"18." I pointed to my newfound fascination and asked, "Who's he?"

"That's Desmond."

"Does he always look so lonely?"

"Yep. He's been on this island for a while. Longer than any of…" He stopped short, suddenly studying me. "You've never seen Adeline, have you, Juliet?"

"No." The woman's voice was enchanting.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." He returned his attention to me. "He's been here longer than any of us, stuck in isolation."

"Is he nice?"

"Extremely," Juliet remarked.

"His stance has just gone all out of whack," I commented, watching as he sliced one into the woods. "He had a nice stance earlier. Do I have your permission to help the 'extremely' nice man play golf, Mr. Jack?"

"Go for it."

I rose to my feet and dusted off the backs of my legs. "Two questions… where can I get a decent top, and where can I find a guy named Sawyer?"

"Claire, the young lady with the baby, might be able to give you a top and Sawyer is… well, hell if I know where he is." I detected a strong hostile tone when Jack spoke of this Sawyer fellow.

"All right. Thanks."

With a small smile to the nice couple, I began to make my way over to Desmond. I don't know what was so fascinating about him. He just gave off this enigmatic glow; much like one yearns to know if there's a life after death, I long to discover this mystery of Desmond. And as the gentle breeze of the island whispered its promises in my ear, I sat on a rock next to the man's feet, watching as another golf ball was lost at sea.

"Your feet… they're too far apart," I commented.

"Yeah? Are you a golfer?" His Scottish accent made my heart skip a beat. I have a thing for guys with accents.

"Used to be."

"What made you quit?"

I hesitated, not wanting to tell him that the death of my father made me stop playing the game I loved the most. "Oh, I just got bored."

"With golf? I don't blame ya," he added with a smirk. "However, on this island… golf seems to be the only pastime. Now, my stance…"

"Here." I pushed myself off the rock and knelt in front of him. Blushing furiously, I remarked, "Sorry if this is a bit awkward. Um… just bring your feet a little closer. Shoulder-width apart."

"Like this?"

"No, like this… may I?" With his nod of approval, I took hold of his feet and slowly brought them closer together. As I was getting up, I could hear the roaring of a wave hurtling towards the shore. A mantra of "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" began coursing its way through my mind. Those words, however, were streaming from Desmond's lips. Now, instead of doing the smart thing (running from the wave), we stumbled off the rock and onto the sand, knowing that the impact wouldn't be quite as harsh on the soft sands of the shore. Desmond had an excited gleam in his eye as he watched the wave descend upon us.

"Oh shite," he breathed with a smile on his face. I watched the water come rushing towards us with uncertainty and fear. _Run, run! Run fast!_ I kept telling myself, but my feet remained stationary. I glanced at Desmond, who obviously could sense (or hear) my rapid heartbeat.

"C'mere!" he yelled over the roar. I stepped closer and he took me in his arms, turning me around and shielding me from the crash of the wave. As the water rushed over us, Desmond's hands gripped tightly to my bare waist, his palm pressed flat against my stomach, holding me close to his chest.

As the water resided, I began to relax against my savior.

"You okay?" Desmond asked, still clutching me close to him.

"Yeah. A little wet, but I'm fine. You?"

"Just dandy." He pushed me away and I noticed the blood on his chest as he stared at the tents near the woods.

"You're bleeding," I pointed out.

"No, you are."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "Damn. I thought it was all bled out."

"Jack can help you out." His gaze wandered to the blonde in the tent. Claire, I think, was her name. "What's your name?"

"Adeline."

"I'm Desmond." His eyes returned to me. "Go get Jack to fix that up for ya. I've got… I've got to talk to Claire."

I watched as he sauntered up the shore, his sapping clothes sticking to his body. Well, what have I figured out about the Scottish mystery? He's a hero. Protecting a girl he doesn't even know from the crash of a wild wave.

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**AN: Well, it's not a lot. Just the intro chapter. You know what would be awesome? If y'all told me what you thought about it. Just a little feedback. Next chapter should be up soon, I promise.**


	2. Stolen

**Man of the World --- Written by Camacho**

**Chapter II – Stolen**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything but Adeline. The song is a Dashboard Confessional song off the latest CD _Dusk and Summer_. It's an amazing CD and everyone should get it. Everything else is owned by ABC, Disney, J.J. Abrams, etc.**

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Three weeks had passed since my arrival. Many of the other "losties" had welcomed my updates from the outside world, but there were still a few who were wary of my sudden presence, mainly the scraggly haired Southerner. Sawyer, the man who might have known the whereabouts of my little brother, would barely even speak to me. All I heard from him were monosyllabic grunts and sarcastic remarks. Something about him seemed eerily familiar, so I was just fine and dandy with the fact that he wouldn't talk to me.

"Addie! Oh, Adeline…"

A bright smile lit up my face at the sound of my new best friend's voice. Claire and I hit it off the second I opened my mouth to speak with her. I had a baby sister at home so my previous knowledge with the wee one helped her out a lot. I provided a babysitting service when she wished to nap or spend some time with friends, namely Desmond. At first, I assumed she and Charlie had a thing going, but apparently, she can't stand the man. _Too protective_, she said. I got a hunch that she really dug Desmond and Des gave off the vibes that he may be crushing on her, as well. You never know, his superhero instincts just may be kicking in and he could probably just tell that she needed a friendly guy like him around.

"Yes, Claire?"

"Could you watch Aaron for a little while? We're running low on food, so Charlie and I are going on a scavenger hunt." She rolled her eyes. "He says I need an escort so the smoke monster won't get me."

"Well, he's probably right. We wouldn't want you to get eaten by ol' Smokey." I took the baby boy in my arms and was greeted by a toothless smile. "You're such a cutie, Aaron. Yes, you are!"

"Thank you so much, Addie. I'll bring you back some chow."

"Thanks a lot, Claire. I could always use some mangoes."

"We'll be back in a few hours," she called over her shoulder as she and Charlie ventured into the jungle.

I began cooing to the bundle in my arms, his weight against my chest bringing back memories of the house and family I'd left behind. I hadn't seen my brother at all, despite spending a few hours each day with Des and Jack, searching the island for Jacob. There were no trails, no scraps of clothing – nothing. I racked my brain for a picture of my family, but couldn't find one. It's not that I'd forgotten, it's just that my family wasn't much of a family: my father left right after I was born and my brother and sister each had a different father. I had pretty much raised my little brother by myself. Being six years older, I felt that I held enough responsibility to cook, clean, and care for Jake. However, when Elizabeth was born (I was 16), Jake was old enough to help out around the house while our mom was searching desperately for a father for her children.

"You look good with a baby on your hip. Natural."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Desmond," I told him, handing the baby to him.

"But, sweet Adeline, it was a picture perfect moment. I'm not a baby man."

I sat down on Claire's bed and Desmond plopped down next to me, laying the young boy on his chest and starting up a game of Peek A Boo. Despite what he says, Desmond was great with the baby, always playing with him or quieting him down when he got upset.

"So, where's Claire?"

"Why, you wanna stare at her a little bit?" I smirked at his childish reaction of sticking out his tongue. "She's getting food with Charlie."

"Charlie… I don't think I like this Charlie fellow."

"I'm not so sure he likes you, either. It's a little love triangle."

"There's no triangle." He began to stroke the boy's downy soft hair, coaxing him to sleep. "She belongs with Charlie."

"Nah. She doesn't _mind_ Charlie, but I think she likes you."

"Yeah?" He didn't sound too interested, which surprised me.

"Do you like her?"

"Yeah, she's a nice girl."

"But…?"

"Years ago… no, weeks ago, I would have _loved_ her. She's beautiful, smart, a wonderful mother, but she deserves better. I've realized I'm not right for her."

"Are you kidding me?"

His brown eyes searched mine, looking for the hidden meaning I would never tell him. Even though I'd only been on the island for a few weeks, I've found myself drawn to Desmond, not just because he was an intensely interesting person, but also because he was a genuine human being. He helped out those who needed it, entertained when he needed to entertain, and chose solitude when he knew he wasn't needed. Plus, he wasn't too bad to look at, especially after he let Claire and me cut his hair. Though his "luscious locks," as Hurley called them, were indeed "luscious," he claimed it was an annoyance. So we rid him of his annoyance and now I find it so hard to tear my lusting eyes away from the Scotsman.

"What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Aaron's fallen asleep. We should put him…"

"Aaron's fine." Desmond put a gentle hand on the tot's back, rubbing slow, calming circles to keep Aaron quiet. "Is there something you'd like to say, sweet Adeline?"

"Not necessarily."

"May I say something?" His tan face had lost all sense of amusement and was replaced by a serious shadow.

"No." Before he could counter, I added, "Because you'd want something in return."

"Adeline, just let me tell you and then, when I'm done, I'll let you know what I want."

"Desmond, just drop it."

"I will not just drop it," he whispered harshly so as not to wake the baby up.

"Yes, you will." I stared at him for a moment, noticing how his eyes darken and his cheeks take on a scarlet hue when he gets upset. I refused to be the one to break eye contact and was relieved when he returned his attention to Aaron.

"We should put him in his cradle, then."

"Yeah." I picked Aaron off of Desmond's firm chest and placed him gently I his crib, pausing when he began to stir. Remember a song that I used to sing Elizabeth when I put her to sleep, I pulled up a handcrafted chair and began to sing to Aaron.

_We watch the season  
Pull up it's own stakes  
And catch the last weekend  
Of the last week  
Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced  
Another sun soaked season fades away_

You have stolen my heart  
You have stolen my heart

Invitation only  
Grant Farewells  
Crash the best one  
Of the best ones  
Clear liquor and cloudy eyed  
Too early to say goodnight

You have stolen my heart  
You have stolen my heart

And from the ballroom floor  
We are in celebration  
One good stretch before our hibernation  
Our dreams assured and we all  
Will sleep well

Sleep Well  
Sleep Well  
Sleep Well  
Sleep Well

You have stolen  
You have stolen my  
You have stolen my heart

Watch you spin around  
In your highest heels  
You are the best one  
Of the best ones  
And we  
All  
Look  
Like  
We  
Feel

You have stolen my   
You have stolen my  
You have stolen my heart

And in the glow of the setting sun, Desmond stood in front of me, his lips parted slightly and the impression of love left in his eyes. I knew what should have happened and I knew what _would_ have happened, if Charlie and Claire hadn't returned earlier than expected.

"Addie, what does your brother look like?" Claire questioned, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"He's got dark brown hair… kind of short… pretty tan…"

"My God…" Charlie breathed. "I think we've found him."


End file.
